Life is a Tight Rope
by Raphi-girl
Summary: Life is a tight rope. And sometimes when the thread of your nerves snaps, you can't help, but fall. This fic is kind of trigger-y so if you don't want to take the chance, just pass over it.


They'd been out on a patrol. It was a quiet night, Purple Dragons laying low, something about almost being busted last week, but whatever. The four brothers weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It'd been a while since they'd had a boring patrol, it was New York after all, and there was always _something_ going on.

When they heard a trashcan bang from a few alleys away, even Michelangelo was excited for something going on. The eager sea green turtle raced ahead of his brothers, a wide grin stretched across his face, as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop towards the noise.

He flipped off the edge of the building with practiced ease, landing in a careful crouch on the ground.

"Alright! Who's ready for some totally awesome shell kicking?! Okay, so it's technically 'ass' kicking, but_-_"

The grin fell from his face and his eagerness turned to horror at the sight before him. A girl, she couldn't be much older than him or his brothers, stringy brown hair, wearing a well-aged flower-patterned nightgown, her face already tinged blue, swung from a length of nylon rope, her feet lighting hitting the side of the Dumpster, creating the noise that had draw his attention.

"Michelangelo, how many times have you been told not…to…run…ahead…"

Don landed next to Leo, "Mikey, are you okay?! What_-Oh My God_!"

"What are ya' all standin' around for?" Raph asked softly, having seen the body from above before jumping down to the ground, "Donnie, hold on ta' Mikey, he's in shock. Leo, can ya' jump up there cut the rope? I gonna lower her down."

Don pulled Mikey away and into his arms as Leo swallowed thickly, then nodded. Raph gripped the cool body by the legs and lifted, creating slack in the rope, Leo quickly cut the rope.

Raph grunted as he supported the dead girl's body as he gently lowered her to the ground. He pressed a finger to her throat, and then shook his head, a sad smile on his face when he looked up at his brothers.

"We were too late. She's gone." He said quietly, then reached up and closed the girls glazed over eyes, "'Least the poor girl was quick about it."

Leo let out a slow breath, "What…what do we do now?"

"Only thing we can do." Raph said as he stood with a solemn sigh, "Pray she made it where she hoped, then head ta' the nearest pay-phone an' call it in."

Raph closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, before turning, nodding at his brothers, and then climbing up the fire escape. He had a phone call to make, but from behind him he heard Mikey ask, to no one in particular, in a strangled whisper.

"How could someone be so selfish?"

When his children came into the Lair that night, quiet instead of rowdy, Master Splinter knew something horrible had happened.

When he heard that it was Michelangelo who had come across the young girl, he wanted to cry for loss of some of his youngest son's innocence.

When he watched the news the next morning and saw the story about one Jane Simon, age twenty, found due to an anonymous tip, he prayed that she had found her everlasting peace.

The orange banded turtle couldn't comprehend how someone could be so sad and not ask for help. He couldn't understand why someone would do that to themselves? She was so young, surely she had a family. She had to have some relative? She had to be someone's sister or daughter or granddaughter or cousin or aunt or something!

He just couldn't understand how someone could hurt so bad and still have no one see.

He was sitting at the table that night at dinner when he said, "What she did was so wrong…how…how could someone be so…so selfish?"

The family went quiet, the argument of whose turn to do the dishes forgotten. Master Splinter cleared his throat, about to ask his youngest child why he thought the young girl had been wrong in her actions, when his second eldest son spoke up.

"Sometimes, Mikey…sometimes ya' feel like there's no way out…ya' get tired of fightin' the good fight an' ya' just start lookin' for an easy exit…" Raph bit his lip as he folded his arms over his chest plastron protectively.

"Not everyone in the world is happy-go-lucky, ya' know? Some…some of us…some of us have somethin' _inside_ us, this…this darkness that sits in our mind an' when we're feelin' like we're at our lowest…it strikes…makes us feel like complete an' utta' shit…"

Raph took a deep breath and picked at his nails, irritated, "It ain't easy, Mike…feelin' like that an' still tryin' ta' keep goin'? It only makes ya' feel worse…makes ya' feel like a dirty, rotten liar…plasterin' on a smile at all the right times…actin' like everyone expects ya' ta'…tellin' everyone ya' fine when ya' don't know which way ta' turn…not…n-not findin' somethin' ta' make it all stop…ropes… knives…drugs…jumpin' off a bridge…goin' out in a fight…

"It's so easy, there are so many ways ta' make all the damn hurt go away an' every fuckin' day I get outta my bed, I deal with Leo bein' his usual dick-self an' Donnie talkin' ta' me like I'm fuckin' stupid, Masta' Splinta' _lookin'_ at me an' thinkin' I'm this…this…this horrible, angry _monster_ an' _you_, Mikey, _you_ pullin' every damn prank and joke at my expense, makin' me look like a fuckin' joke…I get outta my bed _and I deal_. Thing is: some. People. Can't. And sometimes I feel like I don't want to."

The red banded turtle sniffed and looked up at Mikey with sad, tired eyes, "Life is a tight rope, Mikey. And sometimes when the thread of ya' nerves snaps, ya' can't help, but fall. So do me a solid an' stop sayin' how selfish an' wrong that poor girl was 'cause right now, the only one being selfish an' wrong is _you_."

Raph stood and looked towards the floor, "Masta' Splinta' can…can I go out? I need some air."

The wise, old rat nodded sadly, slowly, watching as his usually angry and abrasive son, walked from the kitchen. Any chance at conversation had shrunken when Michelangelo had asked his question. Any slim chance at conversation had died at Raphael's confession.

None of them had much of an appetite anyway.


End file.
